Michael tried again.
The sa result.
"No," he muttered.
His heart rate climbed despite himself. He was no longer drifting randomly. The instability of the void was funneling him, guiding him whether he wanted it or not.
The mirrored gate expanded until it filled his vision.
For a brief mont, Michael saw everything reflected within it.
Then the void folded.
Michael felt himself pass through the surface of the mirror without resistance, as if slipping through water.
The pressure spiked sharply, the energy roaring as it tried to tear him apart all at once.
The strain peaked.
And then-
The darkness shattered.
Michael fell into a new world, swallowed whole by one of Hell's many floors.
Michael hit the ground without impact.
One mont there was pressure and tearing force, the next he could feel his weight again.
Michael's body sank a few inches before stopping, boots half subrged in soft, yielding terrain that squelched faintly beneath him.
He straightened slowly.
Purple.
That was the first thing that registered.
The world was drenched in it.
The sky above was a deep, oppressive violet, layered with slow moving clouds.
They churned lazily.
There was no sun. No moon. Just a dim, omnipresent glow that cast everything below in shades of dark lilac and indigo.
The ground was worse.
Michael stood in a vast swamp that stretched as far as he could see, broken only by clusters of twisted growth and shallow pools of thick, viscous water.
The mud beneath his feet was almost black, threaded with faint veins of glowing purple that pulsed slowly, like a heartbeat buried beneath the earth. Each step he took released a soft, wet sound, followed by ripples that traveled unnaturally far across the surface.
The water reflected the sky imperfectly, its surface constantly disturbed by bubbles rising from below. So burst silently. Others released faint wisps of violet mist that drifted upward before dissolving into the air.
The sll hit him next.
Rot.
Michael exhaled slowly.
"Where am I," he trailed off.
At this point, Michael had two questions.
Was he still in Hell.
And if yes, what floor was this.
What he did know was that it was surely not among the first fifteen floors of Hell.
Michael continued observing.
Massive shapes lood in the distance. Trees, if they could be called that, rose from the swamp on gnarled, crooked trunks. Their bark was dark and slick, almost wet, and their branches sagged under the weight of broad, drooping leaves tinted deep violet and black. From those branches hung long strands of glowing spores that drifted
down like slow, luminous rain.
Michael took a careful step forward, testing the ground again, letting his senses spread outward.
The swamp was alive.
Sothing beneath the surface shifted slowly, deliberately, as if
reacting to his presence.
Michael frowned.
He was just about to move farther in and explore when the ground in
front of him exploded upward.
Mud and dark water sprayed into the air as a massive shape burst out of the swamp with terrifying speed. A segnted limb the size of a tree trunk shot forward, its surface layered with jagged chitin that shimred between black and violet.
Michael reacted on instinct.
He twisted his body and brought his arm up.
The impact landed a fraction of a second later.
The force slamd into him like a battering ram, driving him backward several ters. His boots carved deep grooves through the mud before he managed to stabilize, his feet sinking again as he absorbed the montum.
Michael straightened slowly.
His brows knit together.
That punch alone told him enough.
"Rank Three," he muttered.
The creature pulled itself fully from the swamp.
It was an insectoid monstrosity, towering over him on multiple jointed legs. Its body was long and armored, each segnt plated in thick
chitin.
A massive thorax supported two scythe like forelimbs, their edges
serrated and stained with dark residue. Its head was low and angular, dominated by clusters of faceted eyes that glowed a dull violet, all
fixed on him.
Its presence pressed down on the swamp.
This was not a mindless beast.
Michael could feel the density of its power, the weight of its existence
anchoring it firmly at Rank Three.
Before he could finish processing that, the swamp behind it began to
stir.
Once.
Then again.
More shapes rose from the mud, one after another, each eruption
accompanied by the sa wet, tearing sound as chitin broke free from the earth. Similar insectoid forms erged in a loose arc, their eyes lighting up as they locked onto him.
Five.
Then seven.
Then more.
They were not identical, but close enough to make it clear they were
the sa species. So were bulkier, others leaner, their limbs
shaped slightly differently, but every single one radiated the sa oppressive Rank Three pressure.
Michael's lips pressed into a thin line.
"Did my spawn point just place in an enemy zone," he said quietly.
The first creature let out a low, grinding sound, sothing between a hiss and a rumble. The others answered, the noise echoing across the swamp as ripples spread through the water in every direction.
Michael exhaled slowly.
Then he moved.
One mont he was standing still, surrounded on all sides, and the
next the swamp detonated beneath his feet.
Michael vanished.
The first insect barely had ti to register the shift in air pressure
before sothing slamd into its head. Raw force crashed through its chitin like paper. The creature's skull imploded inward, its massive body snapping back as if struck by a siege weapon. It never hit the ground intact. The upper half burst apart in a spray of dark ichor and shattered armor.
Michael was already gone.
He reappeared behind another creature, body twisted mid motion,
fist driving forward with brutal precision. The punch did not slow. It tore straight through the thorax, pulverizing internal structure and erupting out the other side. The insect let out a shrill, broken screech before collapsing into the mud, lifeless.
Michael was everywhere at once, crossing dozens of ters in the blink of an eye. The swamp churned violently as shockwaves rippled outward from each step. Mud exploded upward. Water flattened under pressure.
The insects reacted too late.
One lunged, scythe like limbs snapping shut where Michael had been
a heartbeat earlier. Its attack t nothing but empty air. Before it could recover, Michael's hand clamped onto its forelimb and twisted.
There was a wet crack.
The limb tore free. Michael stepped in and drove his elbow down.
The creature's head caved in, chitin collapsing as the body dropped straight into the swamp.
Another charged from the side.
Michael ducked beneath its strike and surged forward, shoulder first.
The impact folded the insect in half, snapping its segnted body at the center. It slamd into a nearby tree with bone shaking force, the trunk shattering as the creature slid down in pieces.
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